Doctor Smith and Master Saxon
by SilentAnokoku
Summary: Doctor John Smith is a young psychiatrist who is one day called up by the Saxons, a well-known family, and asked to help their son, Harold Saxon.AU.10Doctor.SimmMaster.Likely Doctor/Master later on, depends on reader opinion -express in reviews-
1. February 1st to February 6th

_I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO!_

* * *

><p><em>Journal of John Smith<em>

**February 1st**

I've started this journal in order to collect my thoughts for when I put together my observations on my patients. Though I possess an extraordinary memory, even I neglect to put in certain details. Today is one of my days off so, naturally, there isn't much for me to put down at the moment.

* * *

><p><strong>February 6th<strong>

Obviously I've been neglecting this journal, but in my defense, I haven't been at this job for terribly long.

I have had several people come to me for help, however, only today have I been confronted with a case, so to speak, which seemed worth writing down here.

It was around noon when I received the call. I had been checking over some observations that I had written down about a patient I had just been working with when the phone began to ring. I glanced at it over my glasses for a few seconds before sighing and reluctantly reaching for it. I hated being interrupted when I was in the midst of things, but I knew someone might be in need of my assistance.

"Hello," I drawled, leaning back in my swivel chair. "Doctor John Smith speaking."

"Doctor Smith? I am a servant of the Saxon household. Yes, _the _Saxons. Madam had wished to keep it a secret along with her husband for his repuatation but they fear they must seek help."

"And who am I helping with what, exactly?"

"I am unable to disclose too many details at this time, but it involves their son, Master Harold Saxon."

"It would help me quite a deal if you could tell me a bit more than that."

"You will be paid generously."

I furrowed my brows and gave an exasperated sigh. What with my current financial situation from college, I wasn't exactly in the position to go refusing jobs left and right. Especially from well off families such as the Saxons.

"Shall I phone another psychiatrist, Doctor, or dictate the address to you?"

"...The address would be nice."

,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

I arrived about an hour or so later at the Saxon residence and was greeted by the same man whom I had been on the phone with. He made sure I was comfortable in the sitting room before excusing himself, saying that Mrs. Saxon would see me shortly.

When she did enter the room, I rose to my feet to greet her. As expected of a woman of her stature, she was rather well dressed and she displayed a confident posture. For the most part, that is, with the latter. She seemed rather uneasy and nervous.

"Doctor John Smith, madam, at your service," I said cheerily, hoping to put her at ease.

Weakly, she tried to brighten her smile. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doctor."

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine. So. Shall we get right down to business?"

"Yes, Let's." She swallowed anxiously and I noted her fingers clumsily fiddling with her wedding ring.

I ventured to speak when she was silent. "The servant I was speaking with didn't tell me much, but am I to understand that it is your son who needs my help?"

She bit her full bottom lip briefly. "...Yes."

"Could you please allow me to speak with him before I speak with you further?"

She was obviously reluctant to let me see her son.

"If I am to be able to help, I need to see him and make my own initial observations."

Mrs. Saxon sighed before calling up the servant who had led me to the room. "Gerard, take him to my son. When he is done bring him back here."

"As you like, Madam." Turning to me, he said, "Right this way, Doctor."

After a fair amount of walking and stair climbing, he came to a room and stopped. "These are the Master's chambers."

I raised an eyebrow and ventured a question, "Wouldn't his father be called 'Master' and he "young Master'?"

"He becomes terribly cross if we do not address him as 'Master'," Gerard answered flatly. Before I could ask another question, the man knocked on the door. "Master. There is a visitor for you."

"Who?"

"A doctor."

"Doctor who?"

"The Doctor John Smith."

The door opened at this point and revealed a young man in his twenties. Surprisingly, for the respectable family he came from, Harold Saxon possessed a rather disheveled appearance. He wore black jeans which were worn on the bottom hems, a simple and slightly rumpled black sweatshirt, and a very red t-shirt beneath. His brown eyes, which were almost black, had this unsettling gleam to them. He had only the slightest bit of facial hair and the hair which was atop his head was a messy bleach blond with dark brown roots.

Briefly, Harold looked the servant. Then he took to looking me over, as though trying to know what he was up against. With a chuckle, he smirked and looked me right in the eyes. "A psychiatrist?"

I was impressed, admittedly, but he must have known his sanity was doubted. "That I am."

He rolled his eyes, so sure of himself. "Won't this be interesting?" he grinned toothily at me.

I returned his wolfish smile with a cheery grin, "We'll just have to see, now won't we?"

He was obviously amused. "Yes. Yes, we will, Doctor." Walking languidly back into his room, he left the door open for me to follow.

I saw Gerard give me a pitying look before I shut the door behind me.

The manner in which he sauntered reminded me of a jungle cat. Harold seated himself on the edge of his bed and gestured for me to sit in the swivel chair by his desk.

Complying, I took the chance to take in the room. It wasn't terribly messy, only a few things out of order here and there. He had a laptop on his bedside table, a television with a medium sized couch, and quite a few books. I also noticed that his mattress was on the ground instead of on some sort of nice frame. Pulling out my notebook and pen, I began scribbling these things down for later. When I looked up, I found those dark eyes studying me in a calculating sort of way.

Vaguely, I registered that his fingers were tapping on his leg. At the time, I took it as impatience or just a habitual sort of bored tapping.

"So, introductions?" I suggested. "I'm-"

"The Doctor. I'm aware."

"Well, I am _a_ doctor. Doctor John Smith. Call me Doctor Smith, John, or what you like."

"Doctor suits you just fine," he said. "And I, am the Master."

"...Right, Harry, it is." There were a great number of reasons why I was not going to call him "Master." Even if the name...did suit him more than "Harry".

He rolled his eyes, "So, Doctor, what are you doing here? No, wait! Let me guess. You were told I was crazy by my mother."

"I was merely told that you needed my help."

Harry scoffed, "I need 'help?'"

"So I've been told."

"What else have you been told, Doctor?" he asked, the glint in his eyes even more worrisome.

"Nothing more. I wanted to meet you myself first. I'd rather not form my initial opinion of you before even meeting you myself."

He arched an eyebrow, "And what if I happen to have a violent temper? What then, Doctor?"

"Then I will know firsthand, without any exaggerations that others may put in."

First, a big smile spread across hsi face. Then he laughed. It was a full out laugh, not held back in the slightest. He didn't seemed to be bothered by anything, not even by the fact that he might be heard by others nearby.

"You are a very strange man, Doctor."

"As are you, Harry." I had almost slipped up and called him "Master" instead. I need to mind that.

After a bit, I asked him about his age, his relationship with his parents, and about anyone else who might be close to him. I was surpised to find that he was actually quite close to my age.

Since I had found out enough for one day, I excused myself and had Gerard lead me back to the sitting room. It didn't take long for Mrs. Saxon to come along as well.

Concernedly, she quickly looked me over. When she found nothing, she sighed in relief and gave me a weak smile. "So you've met my son, now?"

"Yes, quite an interesting fellow, he is."

"Interesting is certainly a word for him."

I chuckled calmly. "Tell me, madam. Does Harold have a job?"

"No. We let him just stay here. We figure it's safest that way."

"Safest?"

"Yes."

"I see." I mentally noted to ask Harry if he had internet access. Nowadays, one can do practically anything through the internet. "Well, Mrs. Saxon. If it would be all right with you, I'd like to visit quite often to form a bond with your son. That way I could get to know him better. I'd also like to be able to ask you and the household about anything I notice about him."

She nodded. "Of course. Anything to help my son."

I couldn't help but smile at her love for her son.

Unfortunately, she was on a tight schedule, so we had to discuss payment and go off on our own ways shortly after. I had forgotten to bring something important up to her, unfortunately. I'll do my best to catch her when I can.

Following that, Gerard led me to the front door.

"Good luck to you, Doctor."

I grinned, "Thank you. To you as well."

When I opened my car door, I glanced back at the house. Gerard had stepped back inside the house already but I still felt like someone was watching me still. Looking up, I soon found Harry watching me from his bedroom window. He grinned wolfishly at me once again and waved.

I grinned right on back, in a less predatorial manner, and waved briefly before stepping into my car.

* * *

><p><em>Any typoes or innacuracies which are pointed out will be appreciated.<em>

_I also will appreciate any reviews immensely! They let me know what I'm doing right and often times encourage/remind me to keep writing._


	2. February 7

_I DO NOT OWN DOCTOR WHO!_

* * *

><p><strong>February 7th<strong>

Naturally, I saw Harry today.

Last night I had spent several hours staying up reading through accounts on all sorts of patients as well as the symptoms of a myriad of disorders and what have you. Admittedly, I stayed up later than I should have, seeing as not only did I put salt in my coffee but I almost nodded off at the wheel of my car.

Before approaching the Saxon home, I apologized to the poor girl as I gently shut and locked the door.

I was just about to knock on the door to the house when all of the sudden it were pulled open. It wasn't Gerard, but, of course, Harry.

"Doctor," he grinned.

Having just been caught in mid-yawn, I hastily shut my mouth. "...Harry."

"I really would prefer you call me 'Master'," he said, looking over my shoulder at my car.

"I'm sure you would," I murmured.

If he heard, he took no notice, "'TARDIS'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's an old joke with an old friend," I quickly answered. "Where's Gerard?"

"Right inside, sir. The Master would not hear of anyone apart from himself answering the door." the man himself replied.

"Ah, of course," I said, sliding in past Harry. "Could I have a word with Mrs. Saxon? There are some important things I really need to discuss with her that I wasn't able to bring up the other day."

"I am afraid not this very moment. I will be sure to alert her as soon as possible, however."

"Alright, thank you, Gerard, my good man," I turned to Harry. "Shall we?"

"Mm," he responded, disinterestedly, shoving himself off from the door and in the direction of the stairs. I was starting up them when he said, "She's always busy, just to warn you. You'll be waiting a while, Doctor."

"She can't be _that _busy."

He said nothing but I had the impression that he disagreed with me quite a bit. Maybe she neglected him when he was young? I'm not quite sure but it's a possibility. I'll have to ask the staff and perhaps even the woman herself.

"Harry, if you don't mind me asking," I began when we arrived at the door I recognized as his, "why do you still live at your parents' house at your age."

He arched an eyebrow at me and glanced over at me very briefly in a calculating manner before opening the door. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, a rich young man in his late twenties such as yourself? One would expect you to be off in charge of some company or involved in politics. Married, possibly even with young kids."

Scoffing a laugh, Harry settled himself on the edge of his bed once again. "You say it all as though my parents would allow such a thing."

"You say it as though they have complete control over your life," I responded, closing the door and comfortably seating myself in his swivel chair.

"Not complete control," he corrected me quickly. "Let's be clear on that, Doctor."

"And why do they control you so much?"

"Why did they call you in?"

"Because they believe you need my help."

This caught his attention. I'm beginning to notice that he's remarkably sharp . "Did they just say that I needed your help? Nothing specific?"

I figured it couldn't hurt to answer his questions, since he was already cooperating and answering mine. "They didn't say anything aside from that."

"Did you ask further?"

"Naturally."

"And what did that tell you?"

"Nothing really. ..._Well_, they threatened in a passive-aggressive sort of way to find themselves another psychiatrist. And mentioned that they weren't just any Saxons but _the _Saxons."

"So you're here only for the money," he said, his eyes posessing a dangerous glint from this information.

"Not exactly. Money just happens to figure in."

"Really now?"

"Really," I affirmed.

"Then, Doctor, tell me this. Why are you here?" Once again, I found his dark eyes watching me closely.

I answered without a second thought or hesitation. "To help."

This seemed to amuse him in some fashion as I heard a soft "hmph" from him as he smirked.

I looked at him steadily for several moments before continuing with my questions. "So, where were we?"

"Why they control me."

"Ah, that's right. Why they control you. And you answered me with a question, correct?"

He nodded, "Correct, Doctor."

"So," I paused, gathering my thoughts, "they control you for the same reason that they called me up."

"I think you're getting the picture," Harry said, leaning back on his forearm, half laying down. The air he exudes often times really does make him seem to fit the title of "Master." His confidence, posture, gait, and dark eyes draw you in to him. I'd say he was irresistable if not for the inescapably unsettling thought of me describing him as such.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to see if their suspicions are true or not," I said, not wanting to assume too much.

He shrugged, "I suppose. Though I find it rather interesting, Doctor, that you're not being cautious or careful even after I suggested that I might be violent. What if I turn out to have a severe mental disorder?"

"Then you turn out to have a severe mental disorder, now don't you? As far as I'm concerned you're perfectly sane- _well_, mostly sane -until proven otherwise."

"Mostly sane, Doctor?"

"Where's the fun in being completely sane?" I grinned brightly.

Harry chuckled in response. "You've got an excellent point there."

"I like to think so. But, anyway, Harry, would you mind giving me more information about you?"

There was a near-imperceptable tensing in his jaw. "Such as?"

"Anything you want to tell me really. Anything you think I might want or need to hear."

His face seemed thoughtful for a moment before he said, "No. Nothing I really want to tell you, Doctor."

I noted his wording. Nothing he _wanted_ to tell me. "Alright, then. Aside from that, I don't really have much else for us today."

"Could I ask you some questions now, Doctor?"

It was now my turn to arch an eyebrow. "What?"

"Could I ask you some questions?" he repeated, more slowly.

I hesitated. "I...suppose there's no harm in it. Sure! Go on. Ask anything you want. _Well_, maybe not _anything_."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said as he sat up with a playfully obedient looking expression.

Releasing a very soft chuckle, I smiled a bit.

"First question. What does 'TARDIS' mean? Does it stand for something?"

"It stands for 'Time and Relative Dimension in Space'."

"And this was an old joke between you and an old friend how?"

"She and I were really into science fiction novels and things of that sort."

"And she was?"

I tried not to hesitate, to think about it. "Rose," I said softly.

"Were you two friends?"

"We were complicated."

"Complicated," he repeated, more taking it in rather than inquiring further.

"Mm." I finally realized I had been staring at the floor and raised my gaze back to look him in the eyes. However, those brown eyes of his were far to occupied with thought to bother with eye contact. "Harry? Were you homeschooled?" I asked.

He nodded and his eyes returned to looking into mine, "For the most part."

"So your life has basically occurred and passed entirely in this house."

"For the most part."

I wonder if the other part has been spent vacationing with his parents or if he has taken up a habit of sneaking out. Unfortunately, the second seemed more likely than the first.

I nodded, taking that in. "Well," I said, rising to my feet, "I've got quite large bit of information to go home and mull over so I think I'll be leaving."

"What a shame, Doctor," Harry said, languidly rising to his own feet.

From there, he saw me to the door and waved me off.

"Til next time, Doctor."

"Til next time, Ma- Harry," I hastily corrected myself.

Though not hastily enough I discovered when I saw the wicked grin upon his face in my rearview mirror.

I honestly hope he won't bring that up tomorrow. That along with Rose. I'd rather not talk have about her. Or have to write down about talking about her. Not after all this time of avoiding it. I don't want to face it now. I'm not sure if I want to face it ever. Though, as a psychiatrist, I ought to know better. I do know better. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop running.

* * *

><p><em>Any typoes or innacuracies which are pointed out will be appreciated.<em>

_I also will appreciate any reviews immensely! They let me know what I'm doing right and often times encourage/remind me to keep writing._


End file.
